Wish You Were Closer
by indigoey
Summary: Draco Malfoy has fancied Harry Potter almost as long as he's known him. When they end up in the same dormitory for Eighth Year, what will happen? (drarry, slow build)
1. Truce

On September the first, Draco Malfoy found himself in Hogwarts dining hall. As being a Death Eater had greatly taken away from his education the year before, Draco willingly accepted his invitation to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for "Eighth Year." That wasn't the only reason he had come back, however. Draco was reasonably sure that a certain attractive black-haired scarhead would return as well, and as Draco scanned the Eighth Year table, he found that he was correct. There was Potter, sitting between Granger and the Weasel, receiving smiles, thank yous, and congratulations from many of the other returning students, though there weren't very many of them.

"Draco," called Pansy from the back end of the table.

Draco slipped into a seat next to Pansy and across from Blaise, who gave him a knowing look.

"What did Potter do this time?" Blaise asked.

Draco sulked. "He used to stare at me when I walked into the room. I know it was because he hated me, but still! Now he won't even look at me!"

"Hmmm, I wonder why!" Mused Pansy sarcastically. "Maybe it's because you were part of a group whose main goal was to kill him?"

Draco let his head fall into his arms on the table. "Not by choice." He murmured.

"God, Draco!" Complained Pansy. "I'm only here because you asked me to be, because of your stupid crush!"

Draco sat up and practically attacked his friend. "Not so loud! What if he hears?"

"If he hears, he'll tell you off and we can leave this place and hide in your basement until people completely forget who we are! I want Golden Boy to fucking hear! Besides, the git has a girlfriend." Pansy said exasperatedly.

"No he doesn't." Interrupted Blaise. "Potter broke up with the Weasley girl over summer holiday."

Draco and Pansy both stared at him, gobsmacked. "How do you know that?" Asked Draco. "Who the fuck told you, and why didn't you tell me as soon as you fucking heard?"

Blaise wore a smug expression. "I have connections."

Pansy stared at him for a moment. "We're your only friends." Blaise flipped her the bird.

At that moment, McGonagall commanded the attention of the dining hall. "Students," she announced. "The war has ended!" The dining hall erupted in applause. "Unfortunately," McGonagall continued, "our victory came with many casualties, one of which was our dear headmaster, and my friend, Albus Dumbledore. Due to his death, I will be taking over as headmistress. Another thing that must be addressed is the number of students who have returned to Hogwarts because their seventh year was interfered with by the war. Not many students chose to return for Eighth Year, but the number is great enough that your fellow professors and I have decided to institute a temporary house for Eighth Year students. The dormitory is in a since unused part of the castle that you will be escorted to after the feast. Eighth Year students have spent a great amount of time at Hogwarts, so they will have no head of house and will be allowed greater freedoms. Now, let us commence with the sorting ceremony!"

The hall applauded again and Draco turned to look at Blaise.

"Did you hear that?" He asked.

"Ah, yes," replied Blaise. "You and I will be sharing a dormitory with the Chosen One. Hope the bloke doesn't see you drooling over him at night."

Draco scowled at Blaise, then, as subtly as he could, looked down the table to where Potter sat, his beautiful face turned to the Weasel, saying something that Draco couldn't hear over the sound of the Sorting Hat yelling out that someone was going to be a Hufflepuff.

Draco barely paid attention to the Sorting, only picked at the feast, and pretended that he wasn't staring at Potter the whole time. Eventually, the table started moving and McGonagall soon led them through a series of halls and staircases up to a small tower that Draco hadn't given any thought to before. He followed Blaise through their cozy common room adorned with red, green, blue, and yellow and the banners of every house, to the boys' dormitory, where four-poster beds stood in two lines. Luggage had already been brought up, marking where each person was to sleep. Draco walked down the line, where he found his own trunk second to the end. Diagonally, next to the wall, was Blaise, and across from Blaise, next to Draco, was… crap.

Draco watched in Slytherin silence as Harry Potter waltzed over to his bed. The raven-haired boy gave a curt nod and disappeared behind the bed curtains, which he didn't emerge from for the rest of the night. And Draco should know, he kept watch the whole time for a stolen glimpse of the Gryffindor boy's face.

The next morning, Draco awoke early, per usual. It was five-thirty a.m. and he was the only one in the boys' dormitory who was up. After washing in the bathroom and changing into his school robes, which included a grey tie instead of his usual green Slytherin one, he decided to head to the library before breakfast.

Draco had settled into a desk in the back and was reading a book on Advanced Potions, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Uh, hey, Malfoy." Potter.

Draco shut his book and turned to look up at the adorable git. "It's not even seven in the morning, Potter. What are you doing here? I wouldn't take you as an early riser."

Potter yawned. "I'm not. Just didn't really sleep last night. And I wanted to talk to you before everyone else got up."

"Why?" Draco raised an eyebrow in an incredulous manner.

"I, uh, wanted to apologise. Your father really did push you into those things."

"I'm not in Azkaban right now, so yes, I'm innocent."

Potter nodded and held out his hand. "Truce?"

Draco smiled to himself and took Potter's hand. They shook on it.


	2. Amortentia

The next day was filled with classes, mostly reviewing things that Draco had learned himself during the secluded summer he had after the war. As he was sure he would do well on his N.E.W.Ts, Draco spent all his classes except Potions reading advanced books on whatever subject he felt like studying at the time, very occasionally looking up to cast a spell. Potions was different, not because it was something he had to catch up in, but because the new Potions master had partnered him with the one and only Harry James Potter, who happened to need a lot of help in this particular subject.

"I thought we might start off with something easy," said the Potions master, of whom Draco had not bothered to learn the name. "Amortentia."

The very mention of this potion made Draco's cheeks turn pink. He had brewed it many a time, some of those times just to smell it. It smelled the same every time he made it, ever since the third year, like Muggles and treacle tarts and the earth, exactly how, as Draco could tell sitting so close, Potter smelled.

"Alright, Malfoy?" Potter asked, seeming to notice the shade of red that Draco's face had turned. Was the Gryffindor staring at him?

"Fine, Potter." Draco answered, looking, embarrassed, down at his shoes.

Potter nodded and looked away.

"So," said Draco. "Amortentia. You can go get the ingredients. I'll set up the cauldron."

Potter nodded and stood up, heading over to where the ingredients were laid out on a table.

They began making the potion, Draco letting Potter do most of the work, for he suspected they both knew that Potions was already Draco's best subject. Occasionally Draco interjected a comment, something like telling Potter not to stir the brew too many times, but mostly he just watched the raven-haired boy work.

"I think this is done," said Potter, taking the cauldron off the heat.

"Really?" Said Draco. "Does it smell right?"

"What's it supposed to smell like again?" Asked Potter.

"It's supposed to smell like, um," Draco felt awkward just saying the words, "whatever you're most attracted to." To him it smelled like it did usually, blending with the scent emanating from the boy next to him.

"Huh," said Potter. "Smells different from the last time I made it. It used to smell like the Burrow, but now it's…" Realization struck Potter's eyes and he was very clearly trying not to look at Draco.

"What?" Spat Draco, perplexed.

"Um, now it smells like peppermint and textbooks." He mumbled the last couple of words.

What could that mean? Granger,? Or… no. Draco made himself swallow that shred of hope and turned back to the task at hand.

"Professor," he called, still unaware of the stout woman's name. "We've finished."

"Test it!" The Professor ordered. "If you really did it right it will work!"

Draco was flustered. "Test it? On who?"

The Professor looked over her glasses at Draco. "On your partner. Who else?"

Draco bit into his lip until he tasted blood and turned to Potter. "Alright, then," he said, as calmly as he could. "Which one of us should drink it?"

Potter's face was the same bright shade of red as Draco's. "I, um, would, but I did most of the work, you simply directed me, so I believe it will only work if you drink it."

Draco's eyes widened. Becoming infatuated with Potter? In truth, he already was, but the potion would force him to show it. He could do it, he told himself, for the good grade.

Draco swallowed nervously and brought a cup full of the potion up to his lips, and took a sip.

Immediately, the only thing in the room seemed to be Potter. The force that always drew Draco to the Gryffindor was stronger now, much, much stronger. In a matter of seconds Draco found himself at Potter's feet, grabbing the boy's ankles. What in bloody hell was he doing? It didn't matter, because the little voice in the back of his head was saying one thing, and one thing only. _HarryPotterHarryPotterHarryPotterHarry__PotterHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHARRY__POTTER_.

"HARRY POTTER!" Draco exclaimed, giving in to the voice. "Kiss me, Harry, kiss me!" He knew he was under the influence of Amortentia, but those were the words he had wanted to say for years. Besides, everyone knew it was the Amortentia. He could say anything to Harry. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Draco stood up and leaned himself into Potter, who promptly pushed him away. Draco was making a fool of himself but it DIDN'T FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE POTTER WAS SO CLOSE. _HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry_.

"I LOVE YOU, HARRY POTTER!" Draco proclaimed loudly, pushing Potter against the nearest wall, and attempting to kiss him again.

This time, Potter couldn't lean away and wait-- was Potter kissing back? This was the best godfucking day of Draco's godfucking life, and it wasn't just the Amortentia talking. Draco kissed him harder, placing his hands on Potter's shoulders. Potter touched the Slytherin's waist lightly, before bringing his hand up to Draco's chest and pushing them apart.

"Amortentia," Potter muttered, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Draco. "It's all the Amortentia." Potter looked around Draco, and his face and ears turned tomato red. Oh. Right. People were probably looking.

The pull towards Potter lessened; the potion must've been wearing off. Draco half-heartedly moved back towards his desk, but abruptly turned when he remembered that that would mean sitting next to Potter, and made a beeline for Pansy, who smirked at him in the most Slytherin way possible.

"Great job," she whispered as he sat down next to her. "You're lucky. I had to deal with Longbottom, of all people, trying to snog me." Pansy let out a shrill laugh. "Look on the bright side: at least now you know what it's like to kiss someone other than Blaise!" She laughed again, and Draco punched her in the arm.

_"Shut__ it, Pans!"_


	3. A Madman in the Closet

The next day, what had become known as "The Kiss" was talked about by everyone in Hogwarts, or at least it seemed that way. Every five seconds some third year or other came up to him asking if he'd really kissed Harry Potter. At least a few seemed jealous. Draco had to admit he liked the attention, it being positive for once. Harry, however, hadn't been in classes all day. When Draco returned to the dormitory, Potter's bed curtains were closed, as they had been that morning. Should he do something? Guilt flamed through Draco's chest and he felt that he probably should figure out how to fix this. It was his fault, after all.

"Um, Potter?" Said Draco, directing his words to Harry's bed.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Came a snarled response.

"I'm, well, I'm sorry, Potter. For… you know. The Amortentia thing."

"You mean snogging me in front of the entire year? Yeah, that definitely wasn't humiliating. You know Ginny asked me if I was gay? People think I'm gay now!"

"Potter?"

_"What?"_

"It's quite hard to converse with you through these curtains."

"Fine," Potter said, pulling open the curtains with an angry vigor.

Draco walked over. "They do know it was the Amortentia, right? I'd never snog you otherwise." He stuttered on the last few words, desperately hoping that Potter didn't notice.

"I'm a fucking Gryffindor," Potter said, ignoring Draco's comment. "I defeated godfucking _Voldemort_. Why the _hell_ am I afraid of people knowing that I kissed a bloke? It was fucking Amortentia, it's not like I'm gay! I dated Ginny, people know I'm not gay, but they _still_ call me gay!"

Potter seemed to be talking to himself rather than to Draco, so the Slytherin kept quiet and let him keep ranting.

"_You_ kissed _me_, too! It wasn't my bloody decision! Why in _bloody hell_ would I voluntarily kiss _bloody Malfoy_? No offense, but you've kind of been my sworn enemy, well, other than Voldemort, obviously, since we bloody met! Why would I go around snogging blokes that I hate? _I'm not fucking gay_."

Silently, Draco thought that these sounded like the ravings of a madman in the closet, but he wasn't going to tell Potter that. In his current state, Potter would probably punch him in the nose. Besides, believing Potter was secretly gay would end in disappointment. It sounded childish, but things really never did end up how Draco wanted them to.

"Are… you coming to classes tomorrow?" Draco asked, unsure of what to say next and hyper aware of how close Potter was to him.

"I don't know," Potter responded sourly. "How's it been for you? Have many people asked about the, uh… thing?"

Draco almost laughed, seeing how uncomfortable the subject was making Potter. "Yes, actually. Many people have inquired. None of them were mad, more astonished or, well, jealous. You do realize you're a sort of heartthrob?"

Potter grinned sheepishly, cutely. "Yeah, well, yeah. I don't get it, but yeah."

How could Potter not understand how bloodyfucking attractive he was? His raven-black hair was so messy all the time, it made Draco want to run his fingers through it. Potter's bright green eyes were always shining when he was happy, so much that Draco always knew when the Golden Boy had had a bad day, just by looking at him. Potter was lean, yes, but he was muscular. He had the body of a professional quidditch player and a soul made of all the hope the world had lost. His lightning scar was something the Gryffindor always tried to hide, but Draco liked it. It was a mark of bravery, a mark of a hero.

"Malfoy?" Harry said, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

"Yes?" Draco replied, startled.

"You just kinda… drifted off, there. You were staring at me."

"I was?" Draco tried to say, attempting to play it off as an accident, but it came out as more of a choked statement. Both boys blushed profusely. "Sorry," Draco said, regaining his composure. "I really didn't mean to."

"It's alright." Harry replied. "I'm used to it."

"At least when they look at you, they're admiring you. Whenever anyone looks at me I'd be willing to bet money that they are plotting my murder."

"But you didn't really do anything," Harry said, perplexed.

Draco sighed. "You know that. I know that. Most still think I'm the one supporter of the Dark Lord who got away."

"I had no idea." Genuine sympathy was inflected in Harry's voice. "I thought- I thought that people had forgotten about the war, moved on with their lives. They seem to, the people around me."

Draco scoffed. "That's because people accept that the war traumatized you. They want to _help_ you. With me, I am reminded on every occasion that the Dark Lord lived in my home, that on my arm is the symbol of hate that will be taught in history classes for generations as something to be afraid of. No one knows that it was fucking _hell!_ You know what it's like to be hugged by a creature practically oozing with dark magic? I do, and it was _hell_. I thought about killing myself. I just wanted to get away from it, from him, from the whole thing! And now no one sympathizes with me, because I am the enemy to them, plain and simple. Half the reason I came back to Hogwarts was because I could still feel him at the Manor. Like any moment he would come back, bring my goddamn _father_ back with him, and make me relive the whole thing. Not to mention how every day we were bombarded with letters asking my mother and I to kill ourselves, or threatening to kill us themselves. For all I know, those letters are still coming. Sometimes I don't think I'll make it another day."

Potter stared at Draco in sheer horror. "That's-"

"Hell." Draco finished for him. "Like I said. A little embarrassment from Potions class is nothing. Don't you think?"

Potter nodded wordlessly, and Draco left for the library. On his way there, though his hands were shaking and he had to work to calm his heavy breathing from reliving some of the worst parts of his life, there was a feeling of triumph accompanying the anxiety. For once, Draco had won against Potter. It was in the amount of trauma he had during the war, but still. Beautiful Potter with his beautiful face and adoring fans, and Draco had won.

A smirk crossed the Slytherin's face as he entered the library, but it quickly dissipated as he saw who stood between him and a vast array of knowledge. Fucking Granger, staring straight at him with a prim scowl across her face.

"Where is Harry?" The girl demanded, directly blocking his path.

"Why do you expect me to know?" Draco scowled back. "Why not ask the Weasel?"

"_Ron_ hasn't seen him at all today. You do room with him, don't you?"

"It's all one room, Granger. Weasley sleeps just down the hall. If he was really Potter's friend, wouldn't he know?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "God, Malfoy. I just thought you might know something."

"And what if I do?" Draco retorted. "Why do I think I'd tell _you_, anyway? Now move. I need to go study." He pushed past her, going towards his favorite spot in the back of the library, leaving Granger staring after him, speechless and perplexed.

Later that night, quite late, actually, Draco crept back into the dorm, trying not to wake anyone else. They all hated him enough as it was. However, the Slytherin was confronted with a disturbing sight as he approached the back of the room, and, as was so, Potter's bed. The curtains were open now, as they were every night. Draco had noticed that the boy never slept with them closed. Under the covers, Potter was shaking, and his face was knotted up in what looked like pure agony.

"No…" Potter murmured in his sleep. "No… please, no. Fred, Dumbledore, Sirius, Dobby… My fault. My fault. No…" Potter subconsciously lifted a hand to his scar, rubbing at it like he was trying to get rid of it.

Draco slowly walked over and stared at Potter, so full of movement, even asleep. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, brushing Potter's hair out of his face. Potter relaxed at the touch, if ever so slightly, so Draco moved closer, sitting down at the edge of the bed and continuing to stroke Potter's hair for what might have been minutes, might have been an hour, until he settled down. Quietly, then, Draco stood and went to his own bed, keeping his eyes on Harry the whole time. Luckily, Harry stayed calm, and Draco was able to sleep himself. That night, he heard Harry's voice, he saw Voldemort, he saw every single person whose name Harry had uttered while asleep. They were all dead.


	4. Stay?

"How did you sleep?" Draco asked Harry the next morning as they walked to the common room. Draco wanted to see if he remembered what had happened.

Potter gave him a questioning look. "Better than usual. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Draco lied, quickly hurrying to where Blaise and Pansy were lounging on a sofa.

"Boy trouble?" Pansy asked sarcastically.

He gave her a death stare. "Shut up."

The girl laughed maniacally. "So that's a yes?"

Draco quickly whirled his head around. Potter hadn't seemed to have noticed anything. "_Shut up_." He told Pansy again, more sternly this time. She laughed again, even louder. Did the bitch _want_ Harry to hear? Wait, yes, she probably did.

"Breakfast?" Blaise asked, intervening before his two friends ended up murdering each other.

"Fine," Draco answered, sauntering out of the room followed by Blaise and Pansy. He smiled to himself when he saw Potter looking at him as he strutted away.

Potions class that day was again relatively eventful. At least, one could say that. As Draco and Potter brewed the Draught of Living Death, Blaise, the git, came up and kissed Draco, right on the lips, and walked away without explanation.

"Bloody hell?!" Exclaimed Weasley from across the room.

"I second that!" Agreed Potter. "What in bloody hell?"

"Malfoy's gay!" Jeered a Gryffindor girl.

"Zabini?" Said another voice. "Doesn't he hook up with girls?"

After a moment, when Draco had adequately regained his composure, he speedwalked over to where Blaise sat, continuing on with life as if he had done nothing at all.

"The _fuck?"_ Draco asked, looking at Blaise in anger and astonishment. They had snogged before, but that was years ago, when they were just two fourteen-year-olds figuring out their sexualities. Blaise hadn't tried anything in quite a while.

"You're welcome," Blaise answered with a smug grin.

"Unbelievable," Draco muttered, storming back over to his own table and stirring their potion as Potter stared at the back of his head.

"You're _gay_, Malfoy? And you're with _Blaise __Zabini?_ The gay part I get, you never seemed that into girls, but Zabini honestly doesn't seem like your type."

Draco whipped around to face him. "For the record, I'm _not_ with Blaise, and what do you presume, oh glorious Potter, might my type be?"

Harry blushed profusely. "I- I don't know," he stuttered. "It's just-- nevermind. It's nothing."

Draco turned red himself and continued stirring the potion counterclockwise. What had Potter been thinking? Had he been-- no, he couldn't have. Potter was straight, most likely, but what if-- no. Draco forced himself to clear his head and tried not to look directly at Potter for the rest of the day, Potter with his green eyes and gorgeous jawline, Potter who would never be his.

That night, Draco came in late again, after rereading his favorite book on logistics of charms. Once again, there was Harry, shaking violently like he was in the middle of a snowstorm and murmuring words and names that brought up horrors in Draco's past. He walked over to Harry and began to brush back the Gryffindor's hair like he had done before.

This time, Harry calmed, but not nearly enough. It was horrible, absolutely horrible, seeing the boy like this. To Draco, he had always been something unreachable, something higher than the rest of them. Yet, here he was. Completely… human.

Suddenly, Harry inhaled sharply, and then he was awake, trying to sit up.

"Shhhh…" Draco said, holding him down. "You're okay. It was only a dream."

Harry looked bewildered, but he stopped struggling. "Draco?" He murmured.

"Shhhh," Draco repeated. "It's me. Go back to sleep."

He stood up to leave, embarrassed, but Harry sat up and held steadfast to his arm.

"Stay?" He asked weakly, the cutest smile on his face.

Draco's face softened and he nodded. "I'll stay."

Draco sat next to Harry as he fell back asleep. Why wasn't Potter pissed? They hated each other. They were supposed to hate each other. Draco's hand came back over to Potter's forehead, and as the boy fell asleep, he remembered Potter's scar, and his fingers drifted to it.

"Does it hurt often?" Draco asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence, and then he answered. "Yes."

"The Dark Lord is gone, though, logically-"

"You think this has anything to do with logic? It sometimes feels like there's a knife in my head, and that's that. I've learned to live with it."

Draco wanted to argue, to discuss, to figure this out, but it was late. Harry needed his sleep. "Alright, then. Goodnight."

"'Night."

Soon, the Gryffindor's breathing became regular, and he drifted off, for real this time, with Draco's hand knotted in his hair. Begrudgingly, Draco went back to his own bed. His eyes stayed on Harry as he lay there, his eyelids eventually winning as he tried to keep watch on Harry, and then he was asleep, only for a few hours, but it was worth it. Harry needed him, and maybe _he_ needed Harry, too. There _was_ something about the boy, the way he gave Draco peace in his restless mind, the way he made Draco _worry_. When Blaise jumped off a cliff into the ocean fully clothed one time, Draco hadn't even thought much of it. Potter's nightmares, however, they terrified Draco almost as much as they scared Harry himself. Was this what love felt like?


	5. Draco Malfoy Is Not A Stalker

**A/N: **Sorry it's been so long since I last updated this! Thank you to YetiKatter for forcing me to finish this chapter and I hope you all enjoy.

_

At breakfast the next morning, Draco nibbled on a scone and drank a cup of tea (a splash of milk, no sugar) and, as he began to wake up, started to notice the odd way people were looking at him as they filtered into the dining hall. What was happening? Had someone seen him with Potter last night? No, they were all asleep, he had been sure of it. What then? Draco's brow creased as he thought back on the day before, and then Blaise slipped into the seat beside him. Oh… right. Draco sighed reluctantly. He had gone to the library yesterday instead of dealing with the _thing_.

"Blaise," he greeted coldly.

Blaise smirked, seemingly enjoying Draco's foul mood. "Draco," he replied.

So the git wasn't going to bring it up himself? Draco turned in his seat to face Blaise and looked him directly in the eyes. "The _fuck_?"

Blaise widened his eyes in innocence and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

"I _hate_ you." Asserted Draco, his petty intentions clear by his tone.

Blaise sighed dramatically, so loud that a few other students turned to watch their conversation. "What is it you want me to do, Draco? _Apologise?_ You know I won't."

"I'd like a fucking _explanation_, at least. You know Potter asked me yesterday if we were together when you snogged me in front of everyone?"

Blaise smirked, raising anger in Draco's chest. "Ah, such a tragedy that anyone would believe that the mighty Draco Malfoy fancied someone such as myself. Must be humiliating. Once again, _you're welcome_. Now I'd like to go back to my breakfast."

Pansy, who had been quietly watching this whole ordeal from across the table, leaned over with a knowing smile. "You know why Blaise thinks you should thank him, right?"

"There is _literally_ no reason why his display could have ever helped me," Draco grumped.

Pansy cackled and leaned in closer. "Now Potter knows you're _gay_," she sang under her breath.

Draco instinctively punched his friend in her arm. "Shut up!" He muttered.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "_Gods_, Draco. Your obsessive crush isn't going anywhere if you keep it under wraps like this. You guard it so heavily that sometimes I swear I ought to tell Potter myself."

Oh. Right. She didn't know about the night before. Recently, Draco hadn't done so well with keeping his crush on Potter only inside his head and rants to Blaise and Pansy. Still, that didn't help Draco in any way. At best they'd become friends, which might even be worse than the sort-of-not-really-enemies situation Draco and Potter were in. Could Draco stand to be around Potter, to talk to him and listen to him, without becoming crushed by the knowledge that they could never be closer? Potter seemed so sure of his heterosexuality, even if Draco could tell that he was at least a little bi, that if Potter was ever with a guy, it would be long in the future and that man would not be Draco. That would be a happy ending, and Draco long since learned that happy endings aren't deserved by him.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice cut through Draco's mourning silence and he shook his head, looking up to Pansy. "Woah," she continued, "you were in a sort of trance there for a second. Anyway, don't look now but your favourite green-eyed idiot is coming this way."

Obviously, the phrase "don't look now" immediately compelled Draco to swivel around in his seat, where he came face-to-face with Harry fucking Potter, who looked at him with earnest bright eyes.

"What do you want, Potter?" Asked Draco, trying so hard to maintain his composure that it turned out sounding a bit mean. Potter looked a little hurt because of this, and it cut at Draco's heart.

"Um, I just wanted to ask, because you're so good at Potions, and I'm, well, _bad_ at it, I guess, if maybe you could tutor me? Outside of class? Robards wants me to become an Auror, and obviously _I_ want to, too, but he says it'll look bad if he lets me in if my grades are bad in anything, and sorry, I'm sorry. You were just the first person I could think of who was smart but not Hermione. She's already helping me in most other subjects, and I'd feel bad about asking her to do more, so… sorry. You don't have to. I mean, I'd like if you would, but sorry. You really don't have to. I can find someone else." Potter's entire face was flushed red in embarrassment, and he apologised one more time and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Draco exclaimed, a little _too_ quickly. "I'll do it."

Potter's eyes went wide, astonished.

Draco cleared his throat and stood up. "It might allow me some credibility if I tutored the, quote, 'Saviour of the Wizarding World.'" This comment brought even more colour to Potter's cheeks. "So, yes. Shall we meet in the library after supper today?"

Potter nodded quickly and practically ran back to Weasley and Granger. Draco turned back around to Blaise and Pansy, who wore the same suggestive grin.

Later that day, in Potions class, Draco sat down next to Potter.

"Hey, Malfoy," the black-haired boy greeted.

"Potter," Draco said curtly.

"So, library?" Potter asked, nonchalantly yet clearly hopeful, to which Draco nodded in affirmation.

How could Potter be this nervous around Draco? He defeated the fucking Dark Lord, after all! This year, so far, had generally seen Potter quite fidgety and his face often turned a severe shade of pink. Draco didn't want to assume, but it lingered in the back of his mind that, perhaps, _he_ was the one causing this in Potter. Then the tutoring, how anxious Potter had been when he asked. Fuck. Was this a _date_? No, he couldn't think like that. Wishful thinking. That's all it was.

After an uneventful day of classes, Draco made his way to the library, inhaling the scent of books as he entered. It truly was his one happy place. Towards the back of the library, near the restricted section, was the table that Draco had taken to studying at. Draco had told Potter near the end of Potions that that is where they were to meet, and hopefully Potter had complied.

Sure enough, there the Gryffindor sat, tapping his foot as he waited for Draco to arrive.

"Potter," the blonde drawled as he approached leisurely. "I do hope you have all your books."

Initially, Potter's face had been lit up in a grin as Draco approached, but the raven-haired boy's face fell as he heard the cold undertones in Draco's voice. The blonde winced internally, hating that he was once again the cause of Potter's suffering.

"Sorry." Draco said, trying to regain Potter's gorgeous smile. "I'm not great at small talk. Um, how are you? That _is_ how you are supposed to greet someone, correct?"

The corners of the Gryffindor's mouth twitched at Draco's awkwardness. "Yeah, Dra- Malfoy. Sorry."

Draco bit his lip and thought for a second before speaking up. This _could_ affirm that the two of them had some sort of friendship. "Call me Draco." The Slytherin said, tensely. "If that's okay with you, that is. As you are seemingly quite far behind in Potions, we might end up studying together often. We should drop the formalities."

Potter—Harry—looked a bit confused by Draco's sudden proclamation, but glad all the same. "Draco," he nodded, testing it out.

"Alright then, _Harry_, shall we?"

Harry turned bright red for a moment before enlightenment reached his eyes and he nodded. "Right. Studying. Better do that."

Draco slipped into the seat next to Harry and set his bag down on the floor. "Now, Harry, it occurs to me that you likely have never bothered to memorise basic ingredients, something that competent students did in _first year_, so I suggest we start with that."

Harry nodded guiltily and listened with interest as Draco began to ramble on about the most common ingredients in potions and their properties and uses, occasionally stopping to ask Harry a question, to see if he was absorbing the information. The boy was actually more intelligent than Draco had previously realised, he just lacked the dedication needed to master his subjects. As it grew darker outside, soon the two of them were the only ones left in the library, and, with Harry yawning every ten seconds, it came to Draco's attention that he should probably wrap up the lesson.

"It's getting late, I see. Perhaps we can continue studying tomorrow?"

Harry nodded, his emerald eyes looking quite tired. "I better get to sleep. Come on, Draco."

"Erm... why?" Asked Draco, a tad befuddled as to why the Gryffindor had literally invited him to bed.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he stood up from the wooden table. "We sleep in the same room, and, unless you're a vampire and not telling me, you should go to bed too."

"Oh. I must be tired, it completely blanked from my mind that I can see you sleeping from my bed." Shit. Draco definitely had _not_ meant for it to sound that creepy.

"You can." Harry said, stopping in his tracks. Perhaps he had meant for it to be a question but there was no doubt in his statement.

"Um, sorry," Draco apologised. "I swear I don't purposefully watch you, it's just that you're so close, and when your curtains aren't drawn I really have no choice but to look straight at you. It's either you or Nott, and you look nice asleep." Fuck fucking fuck. Draco was all too aware that he sounded like a stalker, and that was far from the truth. He, Draco Malfoy, was _not_ watching the Golden Boy whilst he slept. .

"Was that a compliment?" Harry asked, cheeks blushed but Gryffindor sass taking over his actions. "You said I look nice when I'm asleep. Does that mean you're admitting to watching me?"

Oh. He did say that, didn't he? "Not on purpose!" Draco pointed out, eager to prove himself.

"I don't mind. Can't say I haven't stared at _you_ before." Harry smiled at his feet as he spoke shyly, letting his overgrown hair fall in his face. Draco felt an overwhelming urge to run his fingers through that thick black hair, to hold Harry close to him. It was the Slytherin's turn to blush.

"Why do you stare at me?" Draco asked with a small smile, turning his attention back to their conversation.

"I'd better get to bed." Harry mumbled, effectively cutting off their conversation and running away, leaving Draco alone in the dark library with nothing but his speculations of what could be if only he had even a little Gryffindor in him.

Purposefully, Draco lingered in the library a while longer than necessary, running his fingers along the spines of the old books on the shelves, dragging his heels as he made his way towards the Eighth Year dormitories. He hoped Harry would already be asleep when he returned. It seemed obvious that neither boy wanted to face the other at that moment.

Sure enough, as Draco crept to his bed with only the light of the moon through the window to guide him, Harry was sprawled upon his bed, eyes closed and breathing steady. Draco had meant what he had said. The Gryffindor was absolutely gorgeous asleep. However, in attempt not to be a fucking creep, Draco turned away from Harry as he lay down in bed, shutting the curtains with a wave of his wand, though he hated the darkness that overcame him, and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the welcome nonexistence brought to him only by sleep.

He did sleep that night, only a little, but he did. However, at some point in the hours that are not quite night and not quite morning, Draco awoke suddenly, unaware of why. He had no memory of a nightmare, and there hadn't been any loud noises that could have woken him. In fact, the only noticeable sound was a slight murmuring from the bed beside him, Harry's. The noise was so faint that Draco could barely hear it. Surely that couldn't have been what had woken him. Nevertheless, the Slytherin rolled out of bed, platinum hair slightly tousled, to see what the matter was with Harry this time.

Just as Draco approached, Harry sat up, opening scared green eyes and looking around for something that had only been a dream. Obviously, Harry did not find what he had had his guard up for, but instead someone else entirely. As the Gryffindor's eyes came to rest upon Draco, who was frozen like a deer in headlights under Harry's gaze, the wild look about him faded, and he looked confused, but happy all the same.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, squinting and reaching blindly for his glasses.

"Yeah?" Responded Draco in an equally quiet tone, moving closer to Harry so that their conversation would not destroy the sleep of the others in the room.

The raven-haired boy found his glasses and shoved them on his face. "What are you doing up?"

Draco bit his lip and shrugged. "I'm not sure. I woke up just before you did. I have no idea why."

"Why didn't you just go back to sleep?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged again. "I'm not sure about that either. I- I just felt like I needed to help you. I could hear you sleep-talking from my bed, if I listened hard enough. I don't like to see you scared."

Harry smiled and looked away. "Yesterday night, too. You were there," he whispered. "I slept better last night when you were there, but I swear I could feel the exact moment you left." Draco's heart skipped a beat, and he wanted to kiss the Gryffindor then and there.

"I had no idea you gave a damn about my existence, oh glorious Potter."

Harry scowled, but it was broken by a smile and light laugh in less than a second. "I'm no saint," he said, "despite what people say."

"In my personal experience, no one has ever said that. That could just be the people I hang out with, though. Sorry about my family trying to kill you, by the way."

Harry's face darkened seriously. "You shouldn't apologise for them. You don't have to. We may not be friends, but I know that you're not one of them."

"Who says we're not friends?" Asked Draco, voice soft and caring yet slightly teasing. He moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, and Harry made no move to stop him.

"Me, first year." Responded Harry. "I was stupid then, didn't even think of giving you a second chance."

"Then give me a second chance now," blurted Draco. "And hey, I was a git too when we were kids. My father had my head filled with pureblood nonsense, and I never even thought about questioning him.

"A second chance," said Harry thoughtfully. "I like that. I think that's something we all deserve as we grow up, something everyone needs. I'll give you a second chance, as long as you give _me_ one, too."

"But you never did anything wrong." Draco pointed out.

Harry shook his head. "I've done a lot of shit I regret over the years. For one, I never even considered that how I felt about you could be anything but hate." _How he felt about him?_ Draco decided not to question it, though he desperately wanted to. Best not to risk looking like an idiot.

"So… friends?" The Slytherin asked, feeling young and silly.

Harry smiled and held out a hand to shake on it, like Draco had done so many years before. This was similar to their previous truce, but it meant so much more. "Friends."

Their hands locked together and they shook, lingering together a second longer than they needed to. _Friends. Just friends._ He could deal with that. Hopefully.

Harry lay back down and closed his eyes, Draco still sitting on the bed. He waited for Harry to fall asleep before moving, but instead of going back to bed himself he went and got a small sketchpad from his trunk. A few years prior he had started drawing, and quickly realised that he was quite good at it. He used to draw the other Slytherins going about their day, and eventually they had all learned not to care. Now, Draco drew the most beautiful thing to be found in the dead of night, something that he had been itching to depict for some time. Sleeping Harry Potter. Now that they were friends, it wasn't weird to do. Right?


	6. The Weasley Girl

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long! I swear I'll try to update more in the future. Anyway, thanks to YetiKatter for help editing and forcing me to get off my lazy arse and write. I hope this is worth the time out of your existence as a human person.

As soon as dawn broke on that September morning, Draco put away his sketchbook and began to dress, anxious to leave the confines of the dormitory. Though it would have been nice to stay and keep watch over Harry, he didn't want anyone noticing when the others woke up in around an hour's time. It being Friday, Draco dressed in school robes and quietly slipped out of the dormitory, heading to the courtyard for a breath of fresh air, casting a _Scourgify _on himself as he walked in place of a shower.

A problem, however, made itself clear as Draco stepped into the morning sun to find none other than Ginny Weasley.

"Weasley," Draco stated as the redhead stared at him harshly and analytically. "I wouldn't think you'd be up this early."

"I saw you in the library yesterday," Weasley said, her eyes hurt. "With Harry."

"What about it?" Asked Draco. "I'm tutoring him."

She laughed humorlessly. "'Studying.' I've seen the way you look at him. Back off. Harry is _mine._"

Draco raised an eyebrow, refusing to let the younger girl fluster him. "I was under the impression you broke up?"

"He _dumped _me." She said sourly. "He said he only loved me as a friend. But it's fine. If I just get some time alone with him I'll show him that he wants to be with me. Only that's not going to happen if your 'tutoring' keeps taking up Harry's free time, so _back off._"

"Weasley. You need to understand that you can't have everything you want. Trust me, I learned that the hard way. Now I think it would be best if you let Harry continue on with his life without you." As much as Draco's little speech was to keep the Weasel girl from ruining any chance he might actually have with the black-haired boy, it was also because he really did care about Harry. Clearly, Weasley's obsessive behaviour would fuck up Harry's life in some way or another, and he did prefer to help him as much as possible. Though they were not close enough for Draco to know about the Gryffindor boy's childhood in detail, he was clearly messed up from it, and he didn't deserve any more hard times.

"You just don't understand," Weasley declared. "I love him."

"And _he _broke up with you. Goodbye, Weasley. _Please _stay away from him."

Draco briskly walked back inside, purposefully not looking back at the Weasley girl. He headed to the library, hoping to get some reading in before breakfast, but he could not comprehend a single word on the page. Weasley's proclamation had taken over his head, and all Draco could think about was how she might ruin his carefully fostered relationship with Harry. She could kill off half the school, for all he cared, but there was no way in hell he would let her mess with Harry.

A couple of hours later, as students began filtering into the dining hall for breakfast, Draco sat quietly, sipping his tea and watching the doors. His mind was in a relentless battle within itself on whether or not he should tell Harry about what Ginny Weasley had said to him. On one hand, if he disclosed this information, he would essentially be admitting his overly obsessive crush. On the other, it was morally right to warn the Gryffindor of what could basically be the boy's impending doom. It was times like these that Draco wished he wasn't such an anxious narcissist. Logically, the right answer here was to tell Harry, to protect him from this. In Draco's head, however, there was literally nothing worse than admitting his love for the "boy-who-lived." He was a Malfoy, for fuck's sake! This wasn't supposed to happen!

Moments later, Harry came through the doorway, Granger and Weasley—the boy one—in close tow. Inexplicably, Harry met Draco's eyes straight away, and his brow creased at the blonde's worried expression. He appeared to think for a moment, then confidently strode towards Draco, their eyes locked the entire time, for Draco was much too terrified and entranced to look away. Why was Harry able to come straight at him, completely unfazed? He _was _a Gryffindor, Draco supposed, and Blaise and Pansy hadn't found their way to breakfast quite yet, so Draco was left exposed and defenseless.

As Harry moved closer, Draco continued to sit, tea in hand, paralysed. Granger and Weasley appeared to be just as caught off guard by their friend's sudden course of action, seeing as both of them had stopped moving completely, and couldn't seem to do anything besides stare at each other or Harry.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded as he stopped in front of Draco, face a look of concern.

Draco shook himself and forced his features into a nonchalant expression. "Nothing. I'm fine. And how are you on this lovely morning?"

Harry sighed. "You looked like you were in extreme pain when I walked in. I don't think that's nothing. Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine,_" Draco insisted, this time more sternly. "Something happened this morning, that's all."

"What happened?"

"Ask Ginny Weasley." Draco stared without expression as Harry's face went from shocked to confused to distressed and back to confused.

"Do you mean… Is Ginny still upset?" He lowered his voice and moved closer to Draco. "I thought she would get over it. We broke up months ago. I told her so many times that I loved her only as a sister, and she seemed to get the message, eventually. We haven't even spoken in… a while. I understand, I guess, that she still might, um, _like _me a bit too much-"

"She's madly in love with you." Draco cut in. "Just like a lot of people." The Slytherin couldn't help it, he let a momentary smirk cross his face as his words seemed to physically strike Harry, the reaction was so strong.

"Uh, anyway, what do _you _have to do with this, with me and Ginny?" Ah. There it was. The question Draco had tried so hard to circumvent, now punching him in the stomach. How, exactly, was he supposed to avoid it? The Weasley girl deserved death for this, just for putting him in this situation. The only real option here was to _not_ answer.

And so, after much internal torment, Draco shrugged.

"That's not even an answer!" Harry protested in frustration. "I just want to know," he said, calming down. "You don't have to tell me, but it _would_ help to get her to snap out of whatever state she's in."

Draco gave Harry a pained expression. "I assure you, you do _not _want to know. It is better for both of us if we ignore this bit of information."

"Did you tell Ginny about this 'bit of information?' How does _she _know, and I don't? I thought…" The Gryffindor's voice trailed off.

"You thought..?" Draco prompted.

Harry's voice lowered, and his anger appeared to morph into something more resembling sadness, face twisting through a miscelanea of emotion. "I thought we were friends."

These words hit Draco like a sword straight through the heart, and his moderately normal expression crumbled into a pained, desolate look as he remembered the previous night. After a moment he regained some composure, but the damage was done. The many people in the dining hall watching this quiet interaction had all seen what was happening. Those in close proximity had even gotten a glimpse of how Harry had managed to affect the stone-faced Malfoy. Draco winced as he realised how many questions he'd be getting about this for the next several days. He was really only a mediocre liar, and it seemed almost impossible to lie about this to half the school. Someone was bound to find out, and what then?

"I…" Draco said, not knowing what to do. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Oh… Okay…" Harry replied, turning to leave. Granger gave him a sympathetic look as she followed him, whilst Weasley looked a bit uncomfortable. That was one thing the idiot had in common with Draco. They were both horrible with emotions.

It was then, of course, that Blaise and Pansy chose to show up, yawning like they'd just woken up and blissfully unaware of the entire situation.

Blaise raised an eyebrow as he slid into his seat. "Draco?"

"Probably has something to do with his boyfriend," Pansy said a little too loudly, ripping apart a piece of toast and stuffing half in her mouth.

"Shut the fuck up." Draco snapped. Normally, he would at least put up with his friends' incessant teasing, but now was _not the time._

"Woah, Draco," Pansy said, taken aback by his tone. "You okay?"

"If by 'okay' you mean stressed to my fucking breaking point and literally about to die, then yes, I am doing absolutely _spectacular._"

"Merlin's fucking beard, Draco! What did Potter do to you?" Pansy asked.

Draco side-eyed the fair amount of people in the dining hall trying to listen in on their conversation. "I'll tell you later," he muttered, going back to his breakfast without another word.

Draco managed to almost entirely avoid both Potter and his friends until Potions class, when he had no other choice but to sit next to the green-eyed git.

"Draco!" Harry greeted as he sat down. Oh right. They were friends now.

"Potter," The Slytherin replied with even composure.

"So, uh… I talked to Ginny."

The fucking Weasley girl. Of course he did. Potter never could keep his nose out of anything even remotely important.

"What…" Draco said timidly. "What did she say?"

Harry bit his top lip, looking away. "She said some stuff about _you_, actually. She told me that you're only getting close to me because you're still loyal to _Voldemort_." He spat out the last part of his sentence like a growl, like the very thought of a Death Eater was enough to send him into a murderous rage.

Draco couldn't believe his ears. The lying whore. "Harry, do you really fucking believe that? Why the _fuck _would you believe that? Of course I'm not loyal to the Dark Lord. I was forced into that entire situation and I'd be honored to personally _Avada Kedavra _everyone involved. She's lying to you, Harry. She wants you for herself, and for herself only."

"And why would she see _you _as an obstacle?" Harry questioned. "I'd understand a bit if maybe it was Hermione she didn't like, but you're not even a girl!"

Draco shook his head, laughing sadly, humorlessly. "You can be so clueless, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"_Harry. _Your ex-girlfriend that I've gone out of my way not to speak to directly can read me better than you can. I thought it was so bloody obvious!"

"_What, _exactly, is obvious? If I'm so clueless, why don't you just tell me?" Harry was losing his patience. Draco didn't want to do this to him, he didn't want to be the source of any of the Gryffindor's anxieties, but he couldn't. He really just couldn't. People were already suspecting, thanks to Blaise, but if Draco went ahead asked Potter out, here and now, what would happen? He'd probably get rejected, and even if not, what then? Draco would become a stain in the Malfoy family tree, he'd be the one that they whispered about during weddings and funerals, and all for nothing if his gut was wrong, if Harry really was completely straight. It was better not to know. At least that way, Draco still had something to hope for.

"I'm sorry." Draco picked up his things and rushed out of class, leaving a confused and hurt Harry Potter staring after him.

Draco made his way up to the dorms. He could hide here for the next hour or so. Crawling into bed, Draco removed nothing but his shoes and settled down deep beneath the covers. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to come, wishing to wake up somewhere he could finally be free.


	7. I Love You, Harry Potter

Unfortunately, Draco woke up a little while later still at Hogwarts. Even more unfortunate was the fact that the person who had woken him was Harry Potter. Of course it was. The accidentally flirtatious boy with a hero complex.

"Draco?" Harry said, nudging the Slytherin in his shoulder. Draco pretended to stay asleep, unwilling to face the green eyes looking down on him.

"Draco," Harry said again, "I can tell you're awake."

Hells. Of course it was now that Harry used his powers of observation, instead of any point in the past several years when Draco had been actively attempting to flirt.

"What do you want?" Draco complained, sitting up, swinging his legs around the side of the bed and forcing himself to stand up.

"I came to check on you! I _skipped class _because I was worried and you weren't in the library! Hermione's pissed at me for it!" Harry was bouncing a little, clearly on edge from skipping without Weasley and Granger to back him up.

"There's nothing to check on, Potter."

Harry's face fell. "Are you sure? You left so… quickly. And you never answered my question. Am I really that stupid? I thought I noticed things. Especially about you. Sorry."

Draco smirked, trying not to blush. "What do you mean, 'especially about me?'"

Harry looked down at the floor shyly. "You're fairly interesting to observe." He didn't say anything else about that, resulting in a momentary awkward silence.

"You're not so dull yourself," Draco replied. Oh, gods. Was this his flirting? No wonder the boys weren't lining up.

Nevertheless, he had succeeded in making Harry blush, and wasn't that the ultimate goal?

"So… are you going to tell me or am I going to have to take Ginny's word on this?" Harry asked. Did this count as blackmail?

"I can't just _tell _you," Draco told him. "It's the kind of thing… let's say I'll run away to Romania if I'm wrong."

"So what am I supposed to do, then? Wait around until one of us dies and you leave it in your will?"

"No… At this rate I'll outlive you anyway." Draco smirked. Was this the wrong time to make jokes? Probably. Did Draco care? Well… yes, but how else do you make an awkward situation less awkward? Ergh. He was most likely just an idiot.

"I can't believe you," Harry huffed. He turned and left, his frustration visible in his steps.

Draco waited a few minutes until he was sure Potter was far enough away, and then raced out of the room. If he was right, Blaise should be in Charms right now.

Yes, Blaise was, in fact, in Charms, seeming actually invested in the material for once. Draco almost felt guilty when he grabbed his friend by the arm and forcibly pulled him from the class. Almost.

"The fuck?" Blaise asked once they were in the hall. "Is this about Potter?"

"Maybe," Draco said, looking everywhere but at Blaise.

"Aw, is he ignoring you?"

Draco eyed his friend with incredulity. Was Blaise being sympathetic towards him? That _was _the reason he had gone to Blaise straight away instead of Pansy, but he had expected at least _some _teasing at first. He _needed _a bit of teasing, something to get him out of the sobriety that was filling his life. Why the fuck couldn't Blaise just be a friend and laugh at Draco for a second?

"He's not ignoring me, actually," Draco said. Maybe Blaise would, at least, be a real help. "Quite the opposite. The Weasley girl's been filling his head with lies about me and he won't stop asking about what the truth is. And I can't tell him!"

"Why not? Wouldn't it be easier to go ahead and do it? Wouldn't that solve everything? C'mon, Draco." Blaise gave him a smile that felt like how a nurse would look at a small child, a look that made bile rise in Draco's throat and presented him with the motivation to commit mass murder. He hated that look.

"No, Blaise, I can't. I'm not a Gryffindor, in case you were somehow still unaware, and what if I'm wrong?"

"If you're wrong," Blaise answered, "then it's over and you don't have to worry about it anymore. Oh, this is because of your anxiety, isn't it?"

_You don't know everything about me, Blaise. _"Maybe, in part, but it's… it's hard to explain."

"Draco, I get it. I've been in love with boys before as well, and they usually don't love me back."

Oh, of course he had to bring _that _up. That thing from years ago, when both of them were struggling to figure out their identities, and all Blaise knew for sure was that he wanted to be with Draco, and the only thing Draco knew for sure was that he wanted the exact opposite, but for some reason he had let Blaise come closer to him. That was probably one of the worst decisions he had ever made, and sometimes Draco wondered why the two of them were still friends. These musings especially came to mind when Blaise did _this _thing, the thing where he acted like they were boyfriends, even when they were talking about boys, for fuck's sake. And then he would go and use that melty tone of voice and hug Draco without asking and lean against him all like it was natural. It _wasn't, _and it had ruined Draco's view of relationships for almost an entire year. If that was what it felt like to have someone's arm around you, he didn't want it at all.

"Can you not?" Draco asked. "You know what, go back to class. I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Blaise answered, still using the bloody boyfriend voice and still acting like he knew Draco inside and out. Nevertheless, he went back into the classroom, and Draco felt a flood of relief as he was left alone. The blonde closed his eyes and slid his back down the wall to sit on the floor, tears streaming down his face. It felt good to cry.

When he noticed how soon it was till classes got out, Draco composed himself just enough to make it to the library, where he slumped down between two tall shelves and began mindlessly leafing through the first book he grabbed, not really paying attention to any of it. He knew that, eventually, someone would come and find him, probably Pansy or Blaise, maybe Harry. He hoped it would be Pansy. She was the only one of them he could be entirely comfortable around at the moment. He loved Blaise, but as a _friend, _and, no matter how many times Blaise said he understood, he never really did. At the moment, he needed Pansy's blunt teasing, her lack of regard for human emotions. She always wound up making Draco realise how absolutely ridiculous he was being, instead of actually trying to solve Draco's problems like Blaise did.

Not after long, there Pansy was, strutting towards him with Slytherin arrogance. "There you fucking are. Never do go anywhere else, do you? Anyway, what did you fuck up this time?"

Draco almost broke into a grin then and there. It was nice to have at least one person in his life acting how he expected them to. At times like these, there was no question that Pansy was his best friend, not Blaise. "I fucked up a lot, Pans. A _lot._"

"No duh, Sherlock. Potter looked like he was going to break into tears earlier."

"He did?"

"Yeah. It's probably your fault."

Draco sighed. "It is. I never told you what Ginny Weasley was on about this morning, did I?"

"No, you didn't. What did she say?" Pansy leaned forward a bit. As much as she hated other people, she _loved _a good bit of gossip. What Slytherin didn't?

Draco quickly checked to make sure no one was within hearing distance. "It was this whole thing," he told his friend. "Practically a psychotic rant. Long story short, she's still in love with Potter and she knows I am, too."

Pansy smirked. "It's love now? Don't tell Blaise."

"Can we _not_ bring him up right now? He's being a git again."

"_Oh,_" Pansy nodded knowingly. "Okay, then how's it going with Potter?"

Draco couldn't help it; he blushed. "I think this _might_ be love. The more I get to know him, the more I want to be around him, the opposite of how it is with most people."

"I've realized." Pansy said in a monotone. He had done that to her before, disappeared for days because he didn't see any point in being around her, or anyone, really.

"Only problem is," Draco continued, "I fucked it all up. Potter's upset because I can't tell him how I feel, I can't tell him about what Weasley _really _knows. What she told him is all lies, but how am I supposed to prove that?"

"Well _obviously _you can't go ahead and profess your undying love. The world would most certainly explode." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean. If he doesn't feel the same way, what do I do? I've finally managed to become his friend, after so many years, and if he rejects me I'll lose that. If he rejects me, I'll probably hate him for it, and I don't _want _to hate him! I love him!"

Pansy shuddered. "Ugh. That word. When did you become such a romantic, Draco?"

"When Harry Potter started giving a shit about me."

"That was a _rhetorical _question!"

They laughed, and for a second everything felt okay.

"So," Pansy said when their chuckling died down. "There really isn't any way out of this besides fessing up. If you don't tell him I think _I_ might, the sexual tension between you two has been practically killing me for years."

Draco sighed in defeat. "I know you're right, but how am I supposed to face him? I can't just _do _that, Pans."

"Owl him then?" Pansy suggested. "The owl would be confused, seeing as it makes literally no sense to send a letter to someone in the same building, but it means you wouldn't have to look Potter in the eyes!"

"That's… actually a good idea. How is it that you can help me with this stuff? I never think you're going to be helpful, but then you inexplicably fix everything."

She grinned haughtily. "That's my job. Now go write your boyfriend a love letter."

Draco took some of Pansy's parchment and her quill, and, as she studied, he began to compose the words that would either lead to a Harry-filled future or his utter demise.

Almost an hour later, Draco had it. One paragraph. Each word had been chosen carefully, and most had been approved by Pansy, who had given up on her work at some point and sat next to him, reading over what he had written and nodding her head.

"Eloquent," she said. "If this doesn't get you two together I don't know what will."

Draco took a deep breath and put down Pansy's quill, looking over his heart on paper one last time before going up to give it to an owl.

_Harry~_

_This morning, I ended up in a conversation with a girl who happens to be in love with you, but the thing you should know is that she is not the only one. For years I have stared at you from afar, absolutely smitten. I never thought that you would think of me how I want you to, how I _need _you to, so I tried to give up. To forget about you. It didn't work. Of course it didn't._

_I love you, Harry Potter. Even though it hurts, I love you. _

_Yours,_

_Draco_

This was it. Draco headed up to the West Tower, clutching the letter tightly, his hands shaking. He gave it to one of the school's owls, telling it to deliver to Harry Potter.

No going back.


	8. I Love You, Draco Malfoy

**A/N: **Sorry this has taken so long! I'm working on another fic for AO3 and NaNo prep etc., etc., I shouldn't be making excuses. Anyways I finally have this and it's pretty mediocre but more drarry is more drarry, amiright? Enjoy!

For the rest of the day, Draco hid in a hard-to-reach corner of the library. What the fuck had he just done? Harry was probably reading his letter now, and he was probably angry. He was probably telling all his friends, laughing about it. How could Draco be so stupid? Harry would never love him. He had saved the world, and Draco had lived alongside the Dark Lord. They were clearly worlds apart. It was so idiotic of Draco to send that letter in the first place. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Eventually, it was late enough at night that Draco was sure he could make it back to the dorms without running into anyone. The gnawing in his stomach as he moved through the dark halls reminded him that all he had had to eat that day was a piece of toast and some tea. It would have to wait until tomorrow, he supposed.

By the time he reached the Eighth Year dormitories, Draco realised he was exhausted. His eyelids were staying shut for longer than it took to blink, and he could barely shuffle his feet forward. How late _was_ it, anyway?

It couldn't have been all that late, for when Draco entered their common room, Potter was sitting in a chair by the fire, his head leaning on his hand. Potter usually went to bed quite early, Draco knew, so he would be almost falling asleep even if it were only an hour before midnight. Could he make it past the Gryffindor and into bed without any notice? Hopefully, for he wasn't yet ready to deal with whatever the consequences of his actions were.

However, as Draco tiptoed behind Potter's head with catlike stealth, the other whirled his head around. Merlin, why were his powers of perception so good _now?_

"Draco?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Could we talk?"

"It's rather late," Draco asserted, "I was going to bed."

Harry's eyes went big and pleading. "Please? There's… something I really want to say to you."

"Tomorrow." Draco told him. Harry opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but Draco turned and left, not waiting for an answer. He couldn't deal with whatever sappy thing Potter was about to say, whether that was a profession of his reciprocated love, or an overdone apology.

Potter didn't appear to go to bed at all that night. It was the first time in a while that his nightmares hadn't woken Draco. Oddly, he missed it.

The next morning, a Saturday, Draco was the first one awake. His body was hardwired, after so many years of forcing himself out of bed, to wake up before six. He got ready, pulling on a pair of nice, unripped jeans and a white t-shirt, wondering how he was going to manage to avoid everyone all day with no one in class. There was always the option of the library. Then again, Potter _knew _he spent quite a bit of time in the library, so, considering Potter was the one he was hiding from, that wasn't exactly going to work. Where could he go, then?

Draco sighed and decided to head to breakfast before people flooded the hall. He was ravenous.

Down in the common room, Draco immediately noticed that Harry was gone. Had the git gone back to sleep at some point in the night? Had he somehow snuck into the Gryffindor girls' dorm? Was he fucking her at this very moment? Draco shuddered at the thought. He probably shouldn't let his mind go there any more, he decided. There was honestly no worse thought than Potter fucking someone. Well, no worse thought other than Potter fucking someone who wasn't Draco.

He yawned and continued on his merry way, loving that it was early enough that he wouldn't have to bother with styling his blonde hair into something Slytherin-acceptable. Yet, anyway.

Down in the great hall, Draco entered with all his dignity intact. That, however, quickly diminished when he saw Potter striding towards him.

"Draco!" Potter called as the blonde attempted to escape.

"You're up early," Draco replied.

"Yeah. I didn't really sleep last night."

"Oh." Draco presumed it was his fault.

"So it's tomorrow," Potter prompted, alluding to their previous conversation.

"And?"

"Can I talk to you now?"

Draco sighed in defeat. There was no getting out of this. Might as well get it over with. "Fine."

Potter led the two of them to the library. Draco could hear his uneven breathing, the same type of non-pattern as when he was having a nightmare. Draco had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to Harry and comforting him like he wanted to. And he _really _wanted to. Ah, fuck. Why did it have to be Potter?

Soon, they were seated at the back table, at _their_ back table, where they had studied together.

"So, Draco," Potter began as they settled into their seats. Draco wanted to leave more than anything else.

He was actually waiting for an answer, goddammit. What was Draco supposed to say? What would give the best impression? "...what?"

"I, um, I got your note."

"You got my note." LAST CHANCE TO BACK OUT. JUST SAY "WHAT NOTE." IT'S THAT EASY. "What, um, what do you think?" No getting out of this now. Draco crossed his ankles, trying to keep from literally getting up and running away.

"I think…" Harry's cheeks blushed a deep crimson. Fuck, he was attractive.

"Yeah?"

Harry chewed on his lip, and Draco could see a million thoughts flash through his eyes. "I think I'd better go. I'm sorry."

What in bloody hells? Draco's mouth hung open. He knew he should say something, but what was there to say? Harry was obviously making his choice as he pushed away from the table, walking away at an accelerated pace with his head hung low. Draco watched after the raven-haired boy, but he didn't look back. _I'm sorry._ He was sorry. Draco had been stupid. Harry didn't love him. No one could ever love him. He was stupid, _so _bloody stupid.

Later that day, Draco found himself face-to-face with a sympathetic looking Pansy. And… Granger? He closed the book he had been pretending to read in his little corner of the library and looked up and them, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to sound as cold and disconnected as he had been before Harry.

"_Draco._" Pansy said, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Harry," Granger said helpfully. That pretty much summed it up.

"What about him?"

"I saw the letter," Granger told him, avoiding his eyes.

"_Oh._" Had Potter really gone and shown the note to his friends? Was he such a coward that he had sent Granger to do his dirty work for him?

"Harry… how do I put this?" She pushed her frizzy hair away from her face. "He's in shock, I suppose. He doesn't know how to react. This is new for him."

"Doesn't he have a world full of admirers asking to marry him on the daily?"

"Yes, but it's different this time."

"Why?"

"You're his friend."

_Friend._ That word that functioned as a punch to the stomach in so many different ways. "Friend" meant he thought them close, but it also meant that they would never be the close Draco wanted them to be. He wanted it so bad and it wasn't going to happen.

Draco lifted himself off the ground and pushed past Granger and Pansy, storming out of the library without another word. If he tried to say anything the tears building up would find their way down his cheeks, and he was a _Malfoy, _goddammit. Malfoys don't cry. The two girls were calling after him, but he kept moving.

He didn't know where else to go, so he headed to the dormitory. It was evening, and he knew there would be people in there, but the library wasn't safe anymore, and it was the only place left that might be at least mostly private. If the universe remotely liked him, Harry would be at dinner, at least.

Draco let out an audible sigh when the only one in the boys' dormitory was Neville Longbottom, one of the people who were still afraid enough of Draco to never look him in the eye.

He went to his bed, closed the curtains, and went to sleep. Sleep, he supposed, was the single greatest escape.

Night. It had truly come the next time Draco woke up. He didn't know how late it was, if it was before midnight or four in the morning. Night should be dead quiet, though, and it was not. He knew that the shuffling and murmuring from outside his bed curtains was Harry, Harry having one of those wretched dreams of his, and he knew Harry didn't love him, but that didn't mean he wasn't still in love with Harry.

Draco got out of bed and moved over to Harry's. This time, he had nothing left to lose. This time, he wasn't tentative, he gave exactly zero shits.

Draco sat down on Harry's bed and pulled the black-haired boy's head straight into his lap. If their relationship was purely platonic, this was just something friends did, wasn't it? Draco would've laughed aloud had Harry not been in such obvious distress.

As soon as his head rested on Draco's thighs, the Gryffindor began to calm immediately, more so as Draco's fingers wove through his hair, brushing against the sides of his face. He was tan, Draco noticed. He clearly hadn't spent as many hours indoors as the Slytherin.

Still asleep, Harry's breathing slowed, he stopped shaking. All the while Draco held him close. He should get back to bed before Harry woke up.

Unfortunately, or, perhaps, incredibly fortunately, before Draco had the chance to stand up an arm was slung across his lap. The blonde had been pinned in place by his favourite git and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he didn't like it, of course. Harry's arms were slim, but they were muscular, and the weight of his head in the others' lap was comforting. Maybe he wouldn't wake up. Maybe Draco could relish in this without having to talk to Harry about The Thing.

Of course he couldn't. Mere seconds after Potter essentially hugged Draco's legs he was sitting up, reaching around Draco for his glasses.

"Dray?" Harry murmured, voice thick with sleep.

"My name is not Dray," Draco said playfully, enjoying sleepy Harry while he could. "It's Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

"'Course it is, Your Majesty." Harry shoved his glasses on his nose. "Why are you here, anyway? Aren't you mad at me?"

They had to talk about The Thing now. Fuck. "I thought _you _were mad at _me._ You were the one who fled the bloody room!"

"I suppose I was. Sorry." He was sitting up now, but his arm was still draped across Draco's lap because of course it was.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Draco heard his voice go soft. This was the voice no one really heard, no one but his mother and Blaise and Pansy and, well, Harry.

"Do you _want _to talk about it?"

"No. Yes. I just want to know your answer."

"Do you remember sixth year?"

"What?"

"Sixth year. I cast sect- I cast that curse on you."

Draco grimaced at the memory. He still had a scar. "I remember. What about it?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Out of all the things Draco had expected Harry to say when the boy had woken up, apologising for a misdeed from two years ago was not one of them.

"Of course I'm sorry! I've literally never been more sorry for anything! Literally nothing else! And people have _died _because of me, Dray, yet I'm still so hung up on this because, well, because it was you."

Draco's hand took Harry's from where it still rested on his lap and he held it tight. The Gryffindor returned the strength of his grip.

"And we were friends, Draco," Harry continued. "Finally. I thought you'd never forgive me and we were friends and I was okay as long as I could at least have that. Only then I got your letter, and suddenly everything was possible. Do you know why I hated myself so much when that curse hurt you so badly? I'm sorry because, well," his eyes flickered down to their entwined fingers and back up to Draco's eyes. "I'm sorry because I love you."

"What?" He had known it was coming but those words from Harry's mouth meant so much he couldn't even process them. "What?"

Harry laughed quietly, and the world's most adorable smile flitted across his face. "I love you, Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

"I, um, I," Draco stammered. His brain wasn't working right. "I love- I love you too."

Harry's smile returned full force, like his face wasn't nearly big enough to contain it. "Can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"You're really bad at this, you know. But it's cute. Can I?"

Draco didn't give him a response. He took the hand that wasn't holding Harry's and put it on the Gryffindor's cheek, running his thumb along the other's jawbone. Harry reacted accordingly, his arm snaking around Draco's waist.

"I love you," Draco whispered again. His lips pressed to Harry's, chaste, reserved. Their touch felt like the entirety of Hogwarts was casting _Lumos, _in his skin, and in his heart.

Harry tried to pull Draco closer, but the Slytherin denied him such. He wasn't going to let this turn into a one-time shag.

"Goodnight, love," Draco said, moving away. He went back to his bed without another glance at Harry, but he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. There were so many things he wanted to do besides sleeping, and it was near-impossible to close his eyes with the knowledge that all those things were now within his reach. However, he abstained. He was a Pureblood, for Merlin's sake. Obviously no part of this was in any way traditional, but he refused to do anything that would make his mother gasp in horror. After all, it wasn't just them in the dorm, and besides, Draco wanted to draw this out, to be happy for however long was possible.


	9. Dray

"Dray."

Draco mumbled something incomprehensible as the sound of Potter's voice woke him up. It was too early.

"_Draco,_" Potter said again, more urgent, though his smile was apparent in his voice.

The Slytherin finally gave in, rolling over and sitting up. "What is it?" He asked, yawning.

Gods, Potter was gorgeous. His emerald eyes were staring Draco straight in the fuck-I'm-gay region of his brain.

"Nothing, actually." Potter admitted. His arm slipped around Draco's shoulders. "I just missed you."

Draco leaned into the other's body and squirmed out from under the covers. "What bloody time is it? I feel like I barely slept at all."

"Oh, um," Potter turned red. "It's a little past four in the morning?"

Draco wanted to laugh, but this was more adorable than anything else. "And you missed me? Your bed is literally a meter away, you know."

"I know. Hey, Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"And I, you, Potter."

"It's _Harry."_

Draco put his arm around Harry's waist. "I'm _kidding!_ I love you too, Harry. Thought I'd made that abundantly clear already."

"Could you make it clear again?" Harry leaned forward, his nose bumping against Draco's.

Draco leaned away. "Maybe after breakfast."

"Right. But, Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"It's four in the morning. There's no breakfast yet."

"Then I'm going back to bloody sleep!"

With a dramatic flourish, Draco plopped his head back down and pulled his covers back up. Harry scooted to the edge of the bed, uncertainty all over his features.

Draco smiled and grabbed the Gryffindor's hand. "You're welcome to stay, you know."

Harry sighed in relief and lay himself down next to Draco, curling himself around the other's body. This was, Draco realised, what safety felt like.

When Draco woke up the second time, it was again to someone calling his name, though this time it was with extremely different connotations.

"_Malfoy?" _Was that Weasley? Right, they shared a dormitory. Fuck.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco asked, ensuring that his annoyance was clear in his voice.

"What in bloody hell are you doing with Harry?"

Oh, right. That warmth against Draco's back was Harry Potter.

"Why not ask Harry what he's doing with _me_?" Draco suggested. "_He's _your friend. I'm your enemy. Or something."

"What's happening?" It was then that Harry awoke, sitting up and pulling Draco with him. He yawned, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Ron?"

Weasley looked upon the scene before him absolutely horrified. Draco smirked, leaning into Harry's strong form. It was fun to make people uncomfortable, he thought. Especially when that discomfort came from obvious homophobia, which it certainly did for the Weasel.

"Are you _shagging Malfoy?_" Weasley's mouth hung open in shock and dread to become what Draco considered a rather humorous expression.

"Um," Harry looked down at the arm he had around the blonde. "Technically, no."

"Then what the bloody fuck is happening?"

"I don't feel like explaining this right now. I need breakfast." Harry complained, crawling out of the bed. "Draco and I will explain at some point in the near future, ok?"

Weasley didn't answer. He was still looking between his best friend and the Slytherin with frustration. Draco, meanwhile, chose to ignore him and took his clothes and wand to change. When he got back, freshly _Scourgify_'d and hair done, Weasley was still standing there like an idiot, and Harry was silently staring at him. This was truly one of the most awkward situations Draco had ever witnessed, which was saying a lot considering what the Slytherins tended to do for fun in fourth year.

"Er," Draco said, touching Harry's arm with an awkward level almost equivalent to that of the two Gryffindors. "Shall we head to breakfast?"

"We shall," Harry responded, though rather disconnected.

Weasley said nothing, but silently nodded.

As they headed down to the Great Hall, Harry seemed to regain his footing and fell into pace with Draco, letting Weasley walk several meters ahead of them.

"I completely forgot that other people care about us," Harry murmured.

"Yeah," Draco responded. "What's with that, anyway?"

Harry laughed, face momentarily relaxing from its anxious expression. He had a cute smile.

Wait. _Yes. _Draco could say this stuff aloud now. "You have a cute smile," he told Harry, looking right into those emerald green eyes.

A bright red blush spread across Harry's cheeks, and his adorableness factor increased by at least twofold. Draco wished they could continue this conversation somewhere more private, instead of going to the Great Hall to eat or whatever the fuck. Eating was for people without boyfriends. Wait, could he say that yet? Was "I love you" the same as "okay we're dating now?" Ugh. Why did Draco have to be so bad at this?

They entered the Great Hall and reluctantly parted ways with a mutual understanding that their relationship becoming common knowledge couldn't happen quite yet.

"Could you keep Ron quiet?" Draco whispered to the Gryffindor, who nodded in response as he went to join his friends.

A small smile lingering on his face, Draco, too, turned in the opposite direction to find Blaise and Pansy, Pans with an I-told-you-so smirk and Blaise looking all too innocent, as if it was an ordinary day.

Staying nonchalant, the blonde Slytherin slipped into a seat next to his two friends and took a piece of toast, nibbling at it and trying to disguise the combination of joy and absolute terror that had taken over his insides.

They were quiet for a minute, long enough for Draco to start to settle down, when Pansy, all too suddenly, turned to him.

"So," she said, casually. "How's Potter?"

Draco managed to choke on the few crumbs he was chewing. "Fine," he said after recovering.

Pansy's face turned to a devilish grin. "He must be fine if you came in with him this morning," she remarked.

Draco choked again. He should probably stop eating. "Potter and I are friends," he said, though his voice was uneven.

She held up air quotes. "'Friends.' Sure you are."

Blaise leaned into the conversation and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I'm missing here? Draco?"

Draco shrugged and looked down at the table. "It's nothing."

"Potter doesn't want him to tell us." Pansy translated.

Both of Blaise's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "_Oh."_

"Actually," Draco still wasn't looking up at them, "it was my idea to keep it a secret. It's kind of a new thing, you know. Just since last night."

Pansy scoffed. "As long as you don't count years of sexual tension."

Draco felt his cheeks heat up, the colour of a strawberry extending to his neck. He supposed he had been quite obvious.

"Anyway, so you're fucking Potter now," Blaise said. He was acting casual, but Draco could detect strained jealousy hidden behind that façade.

"Not quite," Draco answered, going back to picking at his food. "And you two can't tell anyone about this, with Harry being the-boy-who-lived and all. The _Daily Prophet _would have a bloody field day."

"Yeah, yeah," Pansy responded. "I think we're used to not talking to the press at this weren't the only one put under a microscope after the war, you know."

"I know Pans, but I also know that you don't like Harry and would probably shatter his image if you could."

"_Draco._" She shook her head. "I practically have a legal obligation to be nice to him now that he's your boyfriend. Not that I like the git now or anything, but you like him, and you're my friend."

Draco gave her a tight smile. It wasn't a lot of reassurance, for Pansy could definitely be a sellout sometimes, but it was a lot coming from her. He turned to Blaise. "What about you? I need your word too."

Blaise nodded, but avoided the blonde's eyes. "I won't talk about it if you don't want me to. Still hate Potter, though."

Draco sighed, exasperated. This seemed to be as far as he was going to get with his friends. At least they weren't yelling it across the Great Hall.

After breakfast, Draco rejoined Harry in the corridor, falling into step beside him. Granger, on his other side, gave them a weird look. At least none of the red-haired Weasels were anywhere to be seen. Honestly, the very sight of them gave Draco a headache.

"Draco," Harry said quietly, looking at his shoes instead of at his boyfriend.

"Harry." Draco responded, his volume equally hushed. "Could I talk to you?"

"Bye, Hermione," Harry said to his friend as he left, beckoning Draco to follow him. She smiled, no wariness in her eyes at all as Harry left with a Malfoy. Did she know? Had Harry gone and told her? Fuck. At least it was only Granger.

Draco turned and proceeded down the hall, the Gryffindor at his heels. After a bit, and as soon as the corridor cleared somewhat, Draco took Harry by the arm and pulled him into a classroom he knew to be empty.

As soon as the door was closed, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled them together, burying his head in the other's shoulder. Draco, though shocked, reciprocated his affection. "So," Harry said. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"I can't remember," Draco responded, all his thoughts taken over by every little thing he noticed about the Gryffindor, like how he smelled like treacle tarts and how his wild hair was actually quite silky and soft against Draco's face.

Harry pulled away, and Draco's mind cleared enough to allow some legible sentiments to come through. "It's Sunday." He said.

"And?"

"And that means we could have the day to ourselves."

Harry smiled. "I'd like that."

"And what," Draco smirked, "would you suggest doing?"

Harry turned bright red and looked down at the floor as he tried to suppress a smile. "No, not- I mean I _want _to, but it's only been a day, so-"

"I know," Draco cut him off. "I was thinking we could go to Hogsmeade?"

Harry stared at him blankly. "But that's out in public."

Draco sighed. "True. Next week, maybe?"

"Next _week?_ But that's so soon!"

"I love you, Harry. I don't want to hide us much longer. Besides, if you like me as much as I like you you know that this will have to come out at some point. Meaning, _you'll _have to come out."

"I know, but-"

"It's terrifying," Draco finished. "Still. You have to. It's not like people haven't seen us kiss before."

Harry went even redder at the mention of the Amortentia incident. "I forgot about that."

"I didn't."

"I love you. And, hey, remember what you said earlier? It's after breakfast now." He moved closer to Draco and wrapped his arms around the Slytherin's neck. Draco obliged and snuck his around Harry's waist.

Their lips met and fire sparked through Draco, igniting his entire being. He leaned into the kiss and let his lips part slightly for Harry's tongue. This was different from the previous night. Now, it was more passionate, more intimate, like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Could one overdose on Harry Potter? It seemed entirely likely.

When they eventually broke apart both found themselves staring at each other through enchanted eyes.

After a moment of silence, Harry opened his mouth to speak. "It was never like that with Ginny."

Something sunk in Draco's chest. "Can we not talk about her?" He murmured into the Gryffindor's black hair.

"Right. Sorry." Harry replied.

"Don't apologise." Draco told him. "You're too perfect for that."

"You're the perfect one," Harry said. "You're gorgeous. I love you."

Draco pressed a kiss to his lips. "And I love you."


End file.
